<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>with hands twice tied by heavyskeleton</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054712">with hands twice tied</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton'>heavyskeleton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, frank is nonbinary, gerard is a sweetheart, potential triggers in notes, pure self indulgence, some anxiety, they are in love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:33:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,032</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank supposes this isn't the worst place they have ever woken up - one time, they found themselves dumped unceremoniously into a dumpster behind New Jersey’s sketchiest Walmart, so really this shines in comparison.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>with hands twice tied</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is just a quick drabble thingy because i have had the thought in my head all day and wanted to do something with it, i might come back to this :D </p><p>POTENTIAL TRIGGERS - frank deals with some sad thoughts, nothing too serious but potentially could be triggering to a reader. there is a very hopeful and overall happy ending though! oh, and a content warning for mentions of food.</p><p>stay ugly xo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank wakes up sweating, clutching a blanket to their chest in a blurry room. The air is so thick and humid their long fringe sticks in wisps across their forehead, which is planted firmly into the only remaining cool section of the couch cushion. Blearily, they sit up, hauling their legs to the ground and looking around. The fireplace glares at them, angrily whispering as embers fly behind the protective glass screen. </p><p>Frank supposes this isn't the worst place they have ever woken up - one time, they found themselves dumped unceremoniously into a dumpster behind New Jersey’s sketchiest Walmart, so really this shines in comparison.</p><p>They have always loved Gerard’s living room (when it isn’t stupidly hot), the coffee table covered in so much clutter that it waves ominously in even a slight breeze, the art on the walls which, as they look closer, has changed again. What used to be an intimately detailed portrayal of a child looking morosely at his retreating balloon now depicting an elderly couple intently staring at their own reflections in a clear sea. </p><p>The comfort provided by their familiar surroundings doesn’t yet answer the question of why - or how they got here. Last night is, admittedly, a bit of a blur for Frank, but they hadn’t thought it was a stressful or confusing evening at all. Deciding to get to bed early, they had picked a book and dropped off a few chapters in at only around 9PM, which doesn’t explain how they made it to Gerard’s house by light. </p><p>Racking their brain for an explanation, Frank remembers waking up a few hours later, shivering and alone after a disturbing dream. They remember crying silently in their dusty bedroom, frustratingly losing the last grasp of their dream and left only with the deep sadness in their bones it left in its wake. </p><p>Recollections reveal that they had called Gerard, whimpering pathetically - barely managing full words, and a car engine could be heard over Gerard’s gentle, consoling voice. Piecing things together Frank assumes Gerard had picked them up and taken both of them back to his house, although they only have very vague memories of the journey, mostly recalling the smooth tones Gerard had murmured into their ear, and the low rumble of the car. </p><p>Like clockwork, a gasp startles Frank out of their mind and back into reality. Grumbling, they reach down to straighten out their pyjama bottoms, unrolling them where they had risen up to both of their knees. Barefoot and still mostly sleeping, they gently stand up to turn off the fire, letting out a deep sigh as the room cools almost instantly. </p><p>The gasp can be traced back to the kitchen, as can the constant chatter and occasional cursing passing through the hallway. Frank smiles to themself thinking about Gerard trying (and apparently failing) at making breakfast for the two of them. In the short four months they have been a couple, Frank and Gerard have consumed ludicrous amounts of Gerard’s ‘famous’ pancakes between them (although the only person who has ever called them famous is Gerard himself, and he only succeeds in making them edible about 50% of the time).</p><p>Frank wants to stretch this second, pull it like taffy until it won’t go any further, and live in it forever. Like Charlie and his family living in the chocolate factory, they never want to give this up for anything. But life doesn’t work like that, and the feeling ends abruptly, cold seeping back into Frank’s skin. </p><p>Quietly, they tiptoe past the kitchen door (catching a glorious image of their boyfriend dancing as he spoons pancake batter into the pan) and creak the bathroom door closed. They avoid the mirror, instead quickly going to the toilet and then washing their hands, staring at their feet the whole time. Far away, they think that they need to paint their toenails again soon, glaring dejectedly at the chipped purple polish on their feet. </p><p>Their mood darkens as they realise how a morning so plain and hopeful has turned empty so quickly. They can’t stop thinking that Gerard had to wake up to help them and why can’t they just deal with these things themselves? All they are is an arrogant child, they think, pretending they can handle themselves, handle life and love and money and feelings and -. </p><p>Gasping, they stand straighter, toes drumming on the cold tile, arm hairs raising, finger tapping their thighs. Their eyes flit side to side, their still-sweat-tacky fringe swaying slightly as they take deeper breaths. The light flickers and hums, the sink drips a constant rhythm. They are here, they are present, they are breathing. </p><p>“Every day is what you make it,” Gerard always says. “You can turn it around.” </p><p>It’s his voice in their ears that calms them, eases their shaking fingers and fills them with confidence as they firmly grasp the door handle, exiting the bathroom and walking steadily into the kitchen. </p><p>Hoping they look presentable (maybe they should have looked in the mirror after all), they wrap their inked arms around their boyfriends waist, heart a frantic tattoo in their chest. </p><p>And just as they start to panic - he forgot they were here, they should have just left him alone - he shuffles around in their arms, placing the frying pan safely back on the counter top. </p><p>As he turns fully, Gerard’s eyes light up, glowing with adoration for his lover. A goofy smile invades his face and his cheeks pinken slightly, hands quickly coming up to move his hair out of his eyes (Frank doesn’t point out the streaks of flour on Gerard’s forehead). Gerard then brings his hands down to Frank’s waist, hugging them close to his chest. </p><p>And Frank’s heart is still beating rapidly, chest aching with the force. But this time it’s a good ache, and it doesn’t stop at their chest either - their arms begin to hurt as they squeeze Gerard tighter, a dull pain in their cheeks from smiling so wide. </p><p>Hope exists everywhere, Frank knows that, has always known it, but they never knew their hope could be found right here - in the warm, knowing gaze of the morning sun.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>